[fic] badly done, Dawn. badly done. (1/3)
fic: badly done, Dawn. badly done. (1/3)
fandom: tvd/btvs fusion in an Austen universe
pairing/characters: dawn/elena as emma/knightly; buffy/tara as the westons; alaric as mr woodhouse; spike as harriet; harmony as miss bates; caroline as jane fairfax; jeremy as knightly/frank churchill
summary: after the successful marriage of her sister to Miss Tara Maclay, Dawn sets her sights on matchmaking, much to longtime friend Miss Elena Gilbert's consternation
a/n: in response to several different prompts over at fluffyfrolicker 's au commentathon
what is this fresh hell?
Dawn Summers was a bright young girl of the age of twenty-one who lived in a grand old house in the countryside with her rather peculiar guardian, Mr. Alaric Saltzman, and - aside from some shuffling about when she was quite an infant - she had never left her little town, nor had any reason to leave it. She was as charming and accomplished as a girl her age, in her position, should be, although there were certain individuals in her life that felt as though she should and could do far more to improve herself in many areas.
The first of these was her elder sister, Buffy, who often teased the younger girl that there was much in the world to see and so much to learn, if she only were to open her eyes and look around. Buffy’s interests lay in very physical matters, encouraging her sibling to challenge her body with sport and other outside activities. The second individual who took a decided interest in Dawn’s achievements as a person, was her dear neighbor and friend, Elena Gilbert. Miss Gilbert’s family was very closely tied to the Saltzman’s and she was a constant presence in the home from a very young age. Although only three years her senior, Miss Gilbert found this age gap to be one that enabled her to keep constant vigilance on Miss Summers’ character. She was known to leave stacks of books and articles for Dawn in the foyer of the Saltzman home, many of which Dawn found herself incapable of caring for. A fact which was a constant annoyance to Miss Gilbert.
For many years, Dawn and her sister Buffy had lived in perfect harmony with Mr. Saltzman, caring for him as if he were their own father, and he loving them as his own daughters. In their small family, Miss Gilbert always had a secure place - particularly owing to an intimate attachment between Mr. Saltzman and her aunt in the year before her untimely death. The three orphan girls were quite fond of each other and played a great many games between them in the long halls. Even in adulthood, they were all very fond of each other.
There was a brother, a Mr. Jeremy Gilbert, who was as much a mystery as Miss Elena was commonplace. Early in life, the young boy had gone to live with an uncle quite a ways off. This uncle claimed so much of the boy’s life that he had never had the occasion to visit his dear sister, though he was a prolific letter writer. Mr. Gilbert held quite a hold on young Dawn’s imagination, she spent many an evening pouring over his letters, imaging all sorts of facts divined from his penmanship and from the small illustrations that littered the margins of his epistles.
Which is how Miss Gilbert found herself standing beside Dawn in the church upon the occasion of the elder Summers’ marriage to a one Miss Tara Maclay. Everyone agreed that it was a fine match and the whole village participated in the celebration on that auspicious day. Miss Gilbert herself handed Dawn a handkerchief to wipe her eyes when Buffy appeared at the end of the aisle on Mr. Saltzman’s arm, a beautiful sight in white. Although Buffy and Tara had found a quaint little house just a few miles from the Saltzman estate, Mr. Saltzman spent the majority of the time before, during, and even after the wedding, lamenting the move at all. He was not a man fond of change.
Sometime between the toasts and the first dance, but shortly before the passing of the cake, Dawn turned to her neighbor at the table with all the other bridesmaids in attendance and proclaimed quite cheerfully that this, indeed, was her greatest triumph as a matchmaker. Miss Gilbert raised her eyebrows delicately and reminded the younger girl that no matchmaking had indeed transpired, Dawn was just in possession of a lucky guess. Dawn giggled and pat her old friend on the arm, before looking out at the crowd for her next pet project.
“I think that Matt Donovan looks particularly lonely tonight, don’t you?”
“No,” Elena picked up her champagne flute with a distracted air, “I very much do not. Mr. Donovan is an established man, he has no need for your particular brand of services.”
Dawn dismissed her with a wave of her hand, her mind already whirling with the possibilities of a perfect match.
Indeed, in just a month’s time after the wedding, young Dawn was walking about town when she bumped into a young man by the name of William Blood. He was the sort of man to lurk about in dark alleys with a cigarette in one hand and a scowl on his face. He also insisted that everyone in his acquaintance call him ‘Spike’ which was either a very bad joke or a very unorthodox promise. Why our young heroine decided to take this miscreant under her wing is anyone’s best guess. Why the young man in question allowed her to do so is a question this narrator will leave up to the reader to answer.
At a rather interesting dinner party hosted at the Saltzman house, Dawn gathered together her sister and wife, Miss Harmony Kendall, Miss Elena Gilbert, Mr. Matt Donovan, and Spike. As Miss Kendall prattled on about the latest letter from her accomplished cousin, Miss Caroline Forbes, an individual whose existence caused Dawn daily frustration despite her presence being as absent from their town as Mr. Jeremy Gilbert, our hostess noted with great satisfaction that Mr. Donovan and her special guest, young Spike, were chatting rather amiably. She raised her eyebrows to Miss Elena over dessert, who rolled her eyes in answer, going back to her conversation with Mr. Saltzman about a particular historical tomb they had received that morning.
All in all, Dawn felt as though her dinner party was a great success. A fact that she mentioned to Miss Elena later in the week as they took their tea in the drawing room, Mr. Saltzman in the corner grumbling over a stack of research, a pen in his mouth, and ink stains on his shirt. Miss Elena sits in her customary chair, a high-backed armchair upholstered in red velvet, close enough to Mr. Saltzman’s desk, but also in reach of the rest of the room so that Dawn can move about freely and still talk to her. Over the years, Miss Elena has mastered the art of maintaining two conversations at once, appeasing Mr. Saltzman and his ward with equal measure. Dawn notices this in the way that she notices most things in her life, with a dismissive and cavalier attitude.
“Why just this afternoon Mr. Donovan took the portrait I made of Spike to town in hopes of finding a proper frame. I have never seen anyone so devoted to a man as he is to my dear Spike,” Dawn said cheerfully from her perch on a chair opposite Miss Elena, a small table pulled up close to her that she might put together a puzzle depicting a Roman fresco, an especial gift from Miss Elena herself that very day.
Miss Elena’s lips quirked amusedly, “And you are confident that both men share an attachment to each other, dear Dawn?”
“Of course Miss Gilbert,” Dawn answered pertly, feeling rather discontent that her friend would show so little faith in her matchmaking abilities. “Why just this afternoon Mr. Donovan expressed so much pleasure at the sight of Spike’s profile, who blushed quite gentlemanly at the compliment.” She glared down at the puzzle piece in her hand, before dismissing it for an edge piece. She did not believe in uphill battles, it was far less messy to know where your boundaries were before one began a project.
“Elena, solve this ridiculous riddle for me, there’s a good chap,” Mr. Saltzman said from his corner, throwing a pile of papers into the air in frustration. Miss Gilbert obligingly set to the task of helping the older gentleman, sending Dawn little bits of humor as she did so. The young lady was of course welcome to dinner, as she was most evenings, and Dawn ensured that the kitchen knew to serve crème brûlée for dessert, seeing as that it was Miss Gilbert’s favorite. Dawn did such kindnesses for her friends, remembering their favorites and always ensuring that she had them on hand. The kitchen could tell you that crème brûlée was the most commonly eaten dessert at the Saltzman home.
But then, people rarely ask the kitchen staff for their opinion or insight on very many things of import. A great deal of heartache and misfortune could be avoided if more attention was paid to the goings on in the kitchen of great houses.
Dawn continued much in the way she always had, taking long walks into the village with her basket, engaging in such ladylike pursuits as drawing, needlework, and charitable work, and attending to her sister as often as possible. In the weeks since first stumbling into Spike on her errands, he became a solid fixture at her side. Many villagers became accustomed to seeing his fair head bobbing along down the streets next to her dark one, his dark clothes a perfect complement to her colorful array and style. They were quite a match and Dawn began to feel as though she was raising Spike up to a much higher state of life with her influence. Why any day he would drop the ridiculous penname and insist on being called William again. Although she did not like to dissuade him from his poetical pursuits, despite his insistence that they be kept private even from her inquiring mind, as it was her estimable opinion that all young men of his ilk should have an occupation of some kind. It wouldn’t do for a man to be always underfoot, looking for something to do, much better for him to have a pursuit of his own. Indeed, she was so very proud of her friend’s authorship that she began to dream of his one day having a book of poetry on every bookshelf in the country. That her friend did not share this fantasy with her mattered very little. Dawn often knew what was better for those that she loved than they did themselves.
Among her many daily errands, Dawn would often stop in and visit Miss Harmony Kendall in her little apartment at the center of the village. Miss Kendall was a beautiful, though rather silly, woman of distinguished age - long past marriageable in many opinions - and dwindling means. Though once from a family of considerable wealth and status, over the years the Kendalls had fallen on hard times, and Miss Kendall clung, rather pathetically in Dawn’s opinion, to her old status. It would not do to not invite Miss Kendall to dinner parties and the like, as it would be a veritable snub of catastrophic proportions. Dawn had gone to visit Miss Kendall weekly since she was a young girl, often with a basket full of fruit or vegetables from the Saltzman grounds on one arm. Of course, she began to bring her devoted friend Spike along with her on these special visits. Despite her deep and sincere love for Miss Kendall, Dawn often felt short-tempered and bored in the face of Miss Kendall’s constant prattle, for the dear woman loved to talk about the most mundane and insufferably boring topics.
Of all the topics that Dawn dreaded most upon a visit to Miss Kendall’s apartment, a letter from Miss Caroline Forbes was at the very top of a very short list. Miss Forbes was Miss Kendall’s dear cousin, the offspring of an aunt long since expired, who lived as a companion to a young woman of means, a Miss Cordelia Chase. Miss Forbes sent a letter every Tuesday of every week, her exploits and accomplishments of the previous week then filling every minute of Miss Kendall’s prattle until the following week. Miss Forbes was accomplished, graceful, intelligent, gentle, kind, and by all accounts, perfectly perfect in every way. Dawn had only had the occasion to meet the young Miss Forbes a few short times when they were still small children, but the constant praise visited upon her by Miss Kendall and the rest of the village, made her feel very much like a competitor to Dawn’s secure position in the community.
Spike, being a very observant and rather mischievous sort of creature, noted immediately Dawn’s discomfort at the topic of Miss Forbes’ accomplishments, began to seek out as much information about the girl as he possibly could. Consequently, in short time he became a great favorite of Miss Kendall’s, who loved anyone who loved her darling cousin Miss Forbes. Dawn began to feel very much as though she was in danger of losing her beloved friend should Miss Forbes ever decide to take up residence in the village again. She comforted herself with the fact that despite all of Miss Forbes’ estimable qualities, she did not have the good fortune to secure Spike with a healthy and attractive match and therefore could never quite surpass Dawn’s influence on her friend’s life.
One night shortly before Christmas, an event anticipated with great pleasure by all of our characters, Dawn rather visibly sulked upon hearing Miss Forbes’ name mentioned by her dear friend to Mr. Donovan. Her momentary pleasure in seeing the two men, such a charming looking pair they made in the low light from the setting sun coming through the window of the dining room, was cut short at their joint interest in a subject matter that gave her such consternation. At her momentary droop in mood, Miss Gilbert tugged at a lock of her hair in the way of an old childhood playmate and whispered a joke to her about the books she had left in the foyer earlier that week. It had so very long ago been established that Dawn had no interest in Mr. Saltzman’s particular area of research, that Miss Gilbert’s constant admonitions that Dawn do her best to read more and gain enough insight to help her guardian in his pursuits had become a bit of a joke between them. Dawn often teased, much to Mr. Saltzman’s consternation - as the agreeable gentleman could find no fault whatsoever in his beloved ward - that according to many people, she was a frightfully silly thing with far too many faults to her name. This was as much a joke between Dawn and her childhood friend as it was a truth that Miss Gilbert believed. After Miss Gilbert’s scolding, Dawn’s spirits were quite lifted and she was able to turn the conversation at the table to far more joyful things, primarily the upcoming Christmas party to be held at the home of her sister and her new wife.
Everyone at the table was particularly pleased with this topic of conversation and many jests and plans were wrought out over dessert, crème brûlée. Dawn watched Miss Gilbert crack the top of her sugary dessert with a smile, and leaned over to apologize for being such a flighty and silly thing, to care so much for social engagements and public opinion over scholarly pursuits. Miss Gilbert nodded in her silent way and that was that.
Dawn was quite pleased to witness Mr. Donovan’s great pleasure in hearing that Spike would be attending the party along with the rest. Yes, she thought to herself as she waved goodbye to the party as they went home again before turning back to the fireplace where her guardian and Miss Gilbert waited, they made a very charming pair.
[next chapter...]
fandom: tvd/btvs fusion in an Austen universe
pairing/characters: dawn/elena as emma/knightly; buffy/tara as the westons; alaric as mr woodhouse; spike as harriet; harmony as miss bates; caroline as jane fairfax; jeremy as knightly/frank churchill
summary: after the successful marriage of her sister to Miss Tara Maclay, Dawn sets her sights on matchmaking, much to longtime friend Miss Elena Gilbert's consternation
a/n: in response to several different prompts over at fluffyfrolicker 's au commentathon
what is this fresh hell?
Dawn Summers was a bright young girl of the age of twenty-one who lived in a grand old house in the countryside with her rather peculiar guardian, Mr. Alaric Saltzman, and - aside from some shuffling about when she was quite an infant - she had never left her little town, nor had any reason to leave it. She was as charming and accomplished as a girl her age, in her position, should be, although there were certain individuals in her life that felt as though she should and could do far more to improve herself in many areas.
The first of these was her elder sister, Buffy, who often teased the younger girl that there was much in the world to see and so much to learn, if she only were to open her eyes and look around. Buffy’s interests lay in very physical matters, encouraging her sibling to challenge her body with sport and other outside activities. The second individual who took a decided interest in Dawn’s achievements as a person, was her dear neighbor and friend, Elena Gilbert. Miss Gilbert’s family was very closely tied to the Saltzman’s and she was a constant presence in the home from a very young age. Although only three years her senior, Miss Gilbert found this age gap to be one that enabled her to keep constant vigilance on Miss Summers’ character. She was known to leave stacks of books and articles for Dawn in the foyer of the Saltzman home, many of which Dawn found herself incapable of caring for. A fact which was a constant annoyance to Miss Gilbert.
For many years, Dawn and her sister Buffy had lived in perfect harmony with Mr. Saltzman, caring for him as if he were their own father, and he loving them as his own daughters. In their small family, Miss Gilbert always had a secure place - particularly owing to an intimate attachment between Mr. Saltzman and her aunt in the year before her untimely death. The three orphan girls were quite fond of each other and played a great many games between them in the long halls. Even in adulthood, they were all very fond of each other.
There was a brother, a Mr. Jeremy Gilbert, who was as much a mystery as Miss Elena was commonplace. Early in life, the young boy had gone to live with an uncle quite a ways off. This uncle claimed so much of the boy’s life that he had never had the occasion to visit his dear sister, though he was a prolific letter writer. Mr. Gilbert held quite a hold on young Dawn’s imagination, she spent many an evening pouring over his letters, imaging all sorts of facts divined from his penmanship and from the small illustrations that littered the margins of his epistles.
Which is how Miss Gilbert found herself standing beside Dawn in the church upon the occasion of the elder Summers’ marriage to a one Miss Tara Maclay. Everyone agreed that it was a fine match and the whole village participated in the celebration on that auspicious day. Miss Gilbert herself handed Dawn a handkerchief to wipe her eyes when Buffy appeared at the end of the aisle on Mr. Saltzman’s arm, a beautiful sight in white. Although Buffy and Tara had found a quaint little house just a few miles from the Saltzman estate, Mr. Saltzman spent the majority of the time before, during, and even after the wedding, lamenting the move at all. He was not a man fond of change.
Sometime between the toasts and the first dance, but shortly before the passing of the cake, Dawn turned to her neighbor at the table with all the other bridesmaids in attendance and proclaimed quite cheerfully that this, indeed, was her greatest triumph as a matchmaker. Miss Gilbert raised her eyebrows delicately and reminded the younger girl that no matchmaking had indeed transpired, Dawn was just in possession of a lucky guess. Dawn giggled and pat her old friend on the arm, before looking out at the crowd for her next pet project.
“I think that Matt Donovan looks particularly lonely tonight, don’t you?”
“No,” Elena picked up her champagne flute with a distracted air, “I very much do not. Mr. Donovan is an established man, he has no need for your particular brand of services.”
Dawn dismissed her with a wave of her hand, her mind already whirling with the possibilities of a perfect match.
Indeed, in just a month’s time after the wedding, young Dawn was walking about town when she bumped into a young man by the name of William Blood. He was the sort of man to lurk about in dark alleys with a cigarette in one hand and a scowl on his face. He also insisted that everyone in his acquaintance call him ‘Spike’ which was either a very bad joke or a very unorthodox promise. Why our young heroine decided to take this miscreant under her wing is anyone’s best guess. Why the young man in question allowed her to do so is a question this narrator will leave up to the reader to answer.
At a rather interesting dinner party hosted at the Saltzman house, Dawn gathered together her sister and wife, Miss Harmony Kendall, Miss Elena Gilbert, Mr. Matt Donovan, and Spike. As Miss Kendall prattled on about the latest letter from her accomplished cousin, Miss Caroline Forbes, an individual whose existence caused Dawn daily frustration despite her presence being as absent from their town as Mr. Jeremy Gilbert, our hostess noted with great satisfaction that Mr. Donovan and her special guest, young Spike, were chatting rather amiably. She raised her eyebrows to Miss Elena over dessert, who rolled her eyes in answer, going back to her conversation with Mr. Saltzman about a particular historical tomb they had received that morning.
All in all, Dawn felt as though her dinner party was a great success. A fact that she mentioned to Miss Elena later in the week as they took their tea in the drawing room, Mr. Saltzman in the corner grumbling over a stack of research, a pen in his mouth, and ink stains on his shirt. Miss Elena sits in her customary chair, a high-backed armchair upholstered in red velvet, close enough to Mr. Saltzman’s desk, but also in reach of the rest of the room so that Dawn can move about freely and still talk to her. Over the years, Miss Elena has mastered the art of maintaining two conversations at once, appeasing Mr. Saltzman and his ward with equal measure. Dawn notices this in the way that she notices most things in her life, with a dismissive and cavalier attitude.
“Why just this afternoon Mr. Donovan took the portrait I made of Spike to town in hopes of finding a proper frame. I have never seen anyone so devoted to a man as he is to my dear Spike,” Dawn said cheerfully from her perch on a chair opposite Miss Elena, a small table pulled up close to her that she might put together a puzzle depicting a Roman fresco, an especial gift from Miss Elena herself that very day.
Miss Elena’s lips quirked amusedly, “And you are confident that both men share an attachment to each other, dear Dawn?”
“Of course Miss Gilbert,” Dawn answered pertly, feeling rather discontent that her friend would show so little faith in her matchmaking abilities. “Why just this afternoon Mr. Donovan expressed so much pleasure at the sight of Spike’s profile, who blushed quite gentlemanly at the compliment.” She glared down at the puzzle piece in her hand, before dismissing it for an edge piece. She did not believe in uphill battles, it was far less messy to know where your boundaries were before one began a project.
“Elena, solve this ridiculous riddle for me, there’s a good chap,” Mr. Saltzman said from his corner, throwing a pile of papers into the air in frustration. Miss Gilbert obligingly set to the task of helping the older gentleman, sending Dawn little bits of humor as she did so. The young lady was of course welcome to dinner, as she was most evenings, and Dawn ensured that the kitchen knew to serve crème brûlée for dessert, seeing as that it was Miss Gilbert’s favorite. Dawn did such kindnesses for her friends, remembering their favorites and always ensuring that she had them on hand. The kitchen could tell you that crème brûlée was the most commonly eaten dessert at the Saltzman home.
But then, people rarely ask the kitchen staff for their opinion or insight on very many things of import. A great deal of heartache and misfortune could be avoided if more attention was paid to the goings on in the kitchen of great houses.
Dawn continued much in the way she always had, taking long walks into the village with her basket, engaging in such ladylike pursuits as drawing, needlework, and charitable work, and attending to her sister as often as possible. In the weeks since first stumbling into Spike on her errands, he became a solid fixture at her side. Many villagers became accustomed to seeing his fair head bobbing along down the streets next to her dark one, his dark clothes a perfect complement to her colorful array and style. They were quite a match and Dawn began to feel as though she was raising Spike up to a much higher state of life with her influence. Why any day he would drop the ridiculous penname and insist on being called William again. Although she did not like to dissuade him from his poetical pursuits, despite his insistence that they be kept private even from her inquiring mind, as it was her estimable opinion that all young men of his ilk should have an occupation of some kind. It wouldn’t do for a man to be always underfoot, looking for something to do, much better for him to have a pursuit of his own. Indeed, she was so very proud of her friend’s authorship that she began to dream of his one day having a book of poetry on every bookshelf in the country. That her friend did not share this fantasy with her mattered very little. Dawn often knew what was better for those that she loved than they did themselves.
Among her many daily errands, Dawn would often stop in and visit Miss Harmony Kendall in her little apartment at the center of the village. Miss Kendall was a beautiful, though rather silly, woman of distinguished age - long past marriageable in many opinions - and dwindling means. Though once from a family of considerable wealth and status, over the years the Kendalls had fallen on hard times, and Miss Kendall clung, rather pathetically in Dawn’s opinion, to her old status. It would not do to not invite Miss Kendall to dinner parties and the like, as it would be a veritable snub of catastrophic proportions. Dawn had gone to visit Miss Kendall weekly since she was a young girl, often with a basket full of fruit or vegetables from the Saltzman grounds on one arm. Of course, she began to bring her devoted friend Spike along with her on these special visits. Despite her deep and sincere love for Miss Kendall, Dawn often felt short-tempered and bored in the face of Miss Kendall’s constant prattle, for the dear woman loved to talk about the most mundane and insufferably boring topics.
Of all the topics that Dawn dreaded most upon a visit to Miss Kendall’s apartment, a letter from Miss Caroline Forbes was at the very top of a very short list. Miss Forbes was Miss Kendall’s dear cousin, the offspring of an aunt long since expired, who lived as a companion to a young woman of means, a Miss Cordelia Chase. Miss Forbes sent a letter every Tuesday of every week, her exploits and accomplishments of the previous week then filling every minute of Miss Kendall’s prattle until the following week. Miss Forbes was accomplished, graceful, intelligent, gentle, kind, and by all accounts, perfectly perfect in every way. Dawn had only had the occasion to meet the young Miss Forbes a few short times when they were still small children, but the constant praise visited upon her by Miss Kendall and the rest of the village, made her feel very much like a competitor to Dawn’s secure position in the community.
Spike, being a very observant and rather mischievous sort of creature, noted immediately Dawn’s discomfort at the topic of Miss Forbes’ accomplishments, began to seek out as much information about the girl as he possibly could. Consequently, in short time he became a great favorite of Miss Kendall’s, who loved anyone who loved her darling cousin Miss Forbes. Dawn began to feel very much as though she was in danger of losing her beloved friend should Miss Forbes ever decide to take up residence in the village again. She comforted herself with the fact that despite all of Miss Forbes’ estimable qualities, she did not have the good fortune to secure Spike with a healthy and attractive match and therefore could never quite surpass Dawn’s influence on her friend’s life.
One night shortly before Christmas, an event anticipated with great pleasure by all of our characters, Dawn rather visibly sulked upon hearing Miss Forbes’ name mentioned by her dear friend to Mr. Donovan. Her momentary pleasure in seeing the two men, such a charming looking pair they made in the low light from the setting sun coming through the window of the dining room, was cut short at their joint interest in a subject matter that gave her such consternation. At her momentary droop in mood, Miss Gilbert tugged at a lock of her hair in the way of an old childhood playmate and whispered a joke to her about the books she had left in the foyer earlier that week. It had so very long ago been established that Dawn had no interest in Mr. Saltzman’s particular area of research, that Miss Gilbert’s constant admonitions that Dawn do her best to read more and gain enough insight to help her guardian in his pursuits had become a bit of a joke between them. Dawn often teased, much to Mr. Saltzman’s consternation - as the agreeable gentleman could find no fault whatsoever in his beloved ward - that according to many people, she was a frightfully silly thing with far too many faults to her name. This was as much a joke between Dawn and her childhood friend as it was a truth that Miss Gilbert believed. After Miss Gilbert’s scolding, Dawn’s spirits were quite lifted and she was able to turn the conversation at the table to far more joyful things, primarily the upcoming Christmas party to be held at the home of her sister and her new wife.
Everyone at the table was particularly pleased with this topic of conversation and many jests and plans were wrought out over dessert, crème brûlée. Dawn watched Miss Gilbert crack the top of her sugary dessert with a smile, and leaned over to apologize for being such a flighty and silly thing, to care so much for social engagements and public opinion over scholarly pursuits. Miss Gilbert nodded in her silent way and that was that.
Dawn was quite pleased to witness Mr. Donovan’s great pleasure in hearing that Spike would be attending the party along with the rest. Yes, she thought to herself as she waved goodbye to the party as they went home again before turning back to the fireplace where her guardian and Miss Gilbert waited, they made a very charming pair.
[next chapter...]